


the currency of love

by owilde



Series: 80s AU [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 80s, Background Relationships, Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, F/F, Izzy Does Clary's Make-up, Sharing a Bed, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, gratuitous fluff, they lie in bed and plan for their shared future it's ridiculously romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: Izzy's eyes were transfixed on Clary. They did that a lot, recently. Or, if Izzy was being truthful to herself, not even recently. She could pretend all she wanted that this had been gradual shift, like the slow rolling of a tidal wave across the beach line. In reality it had been a crash landing, and Izzy hadn't so much as lifted a finger to stop it.But neither had Clary.





	the currency of love

**Author's Note:**

> ay back at it again with the 80s shit
> 
> it's not necessary to read the predecessor, ' _drowning in these city lights_ ', but to provide mild context: maryse and robert are divorced, izzy is living with maryse and clary's bunking there, alec's living with magnus and jace is.................. who knows what jace is doing

Clary was doing her hair, half of her curls falling down her back while she braided the other half. Her fingers moved steadily; a tell-tale sign of practice and routine. There were a few golden strands woven into the otherwise red hair, and Izzy's lips curled into a smile as she recalled how they'd dyed them a few weeks back, giggling in the bathroom as the dye stuck to their skin and clothes – and, unfortunately, the floor. Maryse still hadn't forgiven her for that one.

Clary's eyes were transfixed to herself in the mirror. She was frowning in concentration, her nose occasionally scrunching.

Izzy's eyes were transfixed on Clary. They did that a lot, recently. Or, if Izzy was being truthful to herself, not even recently. She could pretend all she wanted that this had been gradual shift, like the slow rolling of a tidal wave across the beach line. In reality it had been a crash landing, and Izzy hadn't so much as lifted a finger to stop it.

But neither had Clary.

Apparently satisfied with the braid, Clary took the rest of her hair and began the same process all over. She was wearing her green silk shirt, the one which read ' _a mixed bag'_ in the back in a nice cursive. She'd embroided it herself. Izzy remembered how proud she'd seemed – how blinding the smile on her face had been. Her heart clenched with the memory.

"Izzy?" Clary asked, meeting her eyes through the mirror.

"What is it?" Izzy replied. She was sitting on her bed with her back against the wall, her feet sticking out over the edge. There was a hole in her right sock – she'd have to ask Maryse to sew it, at some point.

"Do you think," she started, squinting her eyes in concentration as she continued to braid her hair, "that Simon might be hiding something?"

Izzy snorted. "What, besides his freaky boyfriend?"

Clary rolled her eyes. She finished the second braid and began to weave the two of them into some sort of a bun. "I still don't understand how he thought I wouldn't know," she said. "Not only did he keep disappearing on me, the rumours don't take long to start flying. I probably knew before he did whenever they had a date night."

Wind blew lightly, and the blinds shook against the window panes. Izzy moved to close the window, leaning her arm against her desk for support as she reached out over it. "Well," she said, her voice strained with effort, "Simon's a bit oblivious, isn't he?"

" _A bit_ would be an understatement," Clary's voice carried over.

Izzy pushed the window shut and leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. "At least he told you soon enough," she yawned. It was too late to be going out – but she'd already promised Clary they'd go together, and she couldn't back out now. "I had to wait for ages for Alec to open up to me."

"I guess," Clary agreed. She blinked at herself in the mirror, then swung around towards Izzy, her feet nearly knocking over a bottle of hairspray. "Could you help me with my make-up?"

Izzy sat in front of her, and begun to rummage through her bag. "Any colour scheme you'd want to try?"

"Madonna's bringing red back," Clary said. "I think—yeah, the orange one, and the cherry. And yellow."

Izzy lifted said eyeshadows with a questioning brow, and Clary nodded. Izzy shifted closer; their knees were touching. Clary closed her eyes, and Izzy got to work, mixing and blending the colours across her lids.

"Speaking of Alec," Clary mumbled, "how is he doing nowadays?"

"I haven't seen him in a few weeks," Izzy told her. "Last time I heard, he'd gotten a job at Magnus' store and is being more of a hindrance than help."

Clary laughed, and the sound made Izzy smile. "Yeah, no doubt. But I'm glad he's got something to do. Can't imagine he'd enjoy lounging around the apartment being useless."

"No," Izzy agreed. "I don't think he would. He needs to…" She paused. "He needs to be around people, so that he won't dwell too much on what happened."

"It's not his fault," Clary said. "Does he think it is?"

Izzy shrugged, though Clary couldn't see it. "I think he blames himself for a lot of things, whether he should or not." She set the eyeshadows down. "Open your eyes and blink a few times."

Clary did as told. The colours looked nice – sort of like the wings of an exotic bird. Clary twisted her head around to glance at the mirror. "You're good at this," she said with a smile as she turned back to Izzy. "How about some liner?"

"Red?"

"Perfect. I'll close my eyes."

Izzy began to outline some of the yellow parts, adding some swirls and dots around where she felt was appropriate. She leaned closer, her face only inches apart from Clary's.

"What were you saying before?" Izzy asked quietly. "About Simon?"

Clary huffed. "I think he's keeping something from me. Maybe it's nothing big, maybe it is – but he's been weird, lately. Not in a bad way, I don't think, just… weird."

"Maybe it's something to do with Raphael?" Izzy suggested. "A fight, or something."

"Maybe," Clary agreed. "But whatever it is, he's not telling me. He usually tells me everything."

Izzy finished with the eyeliner, blowing softly on Clary's lids so that it wouldn't spread. "He'll tell you eventually," she said. "When he's ready."

"I know that," Clary sighed. "I'm just… not used to this."

Izzy hummed, and leaned closer to press a kiss on her lips. "You worry too much," she whispered. "It's no good for you."

"Says you," Clary said teasingly. "You're the biggest worrier that I know."

"Pretty sure that's not a word," Izzy argued.

"Sure it is," Clary said. "But  _fine_ , you're the doctor here."

Izzy rolled her eyes. "Not a doctor just yet," she said, smiling. "Hopefully soon enough, though."

She stood up, pulling Clary along with her. She over-estimated the amount of force needed – they lost their balance and stumbled over on top of the bed. Izzy huffed out a breath as Clary's weight fell on top of her. The tips of their noses touched. They both broke into quiet laughter, their eyes meeting.

The corners of Clary's eyes were crinkled, and she was smiling, brightly, freely – and Izzy fell in love all over again.

The mattress was soft underneath her, and Clary felt like a warm and comforting weight on top of her, settled between her legs. Izzy couldn't help but yawn, lifting a hand to cover her mouth.

Clary frowned, leaning her elbows on either side of Izzy for support. "Are you tired?" She asked, concerned. "We don't have to go, you know? We could stay here."

Izzy shook her head. "No, no. You wanted to see the art show. We should go."

"I love you more than I love art," Clary said, pressing a kiss to Izzy's forehead.

"I don't believe that for a second," Izzy laughed.

"Well, fine. Maybe it's tied," Clary amended. "But we still don't have to go if you're tired. And don't hide your yawns from me."

Izzy was in the middle of stifling a yawn, and broke into a sheepish smile. "Alright, then," she sighed. "If you're  _sure_ you can miss your big, underground show, I would love nothing more than a short nap."

"I am sure," Clary promised. She moved slightly so that they were lying side by side on Izzy's bed, with Clary's leg hooked over hers and her head nestled in the crook of Izzy's neck. Izzy shuffled slightly so that her arm wouldn't go numb, and then closed her eyes, feeling content.

"Remember when you said we'd move to Florida together?" Clary asked quietly. Izzy could feel her breath on her skin when she spoke.

"Yeah," Izzy said. "I remember. You'll do your art and I'll be a doctor, and we'll help make the world a better place. Right?"

"Right," Clary echoed. "I was thinking— maybe, instead, we should consider staying here? In New York?"

Izzy's eyes flickered open. "Really?"

"Yeah," Clary said. "We're still so young. We can always move to Florida later – but I can only attend Brooklyn's weird  _avant garde_  exhibitions for so long. And you'll find work here better – New York's got more people. We could move upstate, or have a shitty loft somewhere. We could get a cat, even." She paused. "I'm just not ready to leave yet," she whispered.

Izzy tightened her grip on Clary. "I don't think I am, either," she confessed. "Mom needs me, and Jace might not admit it but he doesn't know what the hell he's doing. Who's going to sort him out, if not us?"

"Exactly," Clary said. "Simon wouldn't know what to do with himself, either, if I was gone. We'll—we'll go, later. To Florida, I mean."

"We have our entire lives ahead of us," Izzy said. "There's time for Florida. There's time for everything."

"Time is precious, I know," Clary quoted, smiling against her skin. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Izzy replied.

She closed her eyes once more.

x

Maryse saw the lights coming from Isabelle's room, despite the house being otherwise silent and dark. She placed her keys on the kitchen table and walked over to the room, trying not to make too much sound. The clock on the wall pronounced it was a little past midnight. She'd lost all track of time, talking away with her friends and drinking the night away. Maryse didn't feel too guilty – she deserved some time to settle, and to grief. And she'd be damned if she was letting Robert's shadow watch over her as she cried herself to sleep, or isolated herself.

No, she was going to build a new life for herself. She'd fix the mess Robert had made of their family, and she'd make everything alright. Starting with her own children.

She pushed the door to Isabelle's room gently open. It creaked slightly from its hinges. Maryse peeked inside.

The lights were still on. Make-up was scattered on the floor in front of the mirror. The mattress that Clary normally slept on was empty, safe for her bag and some discarded clothes. Instead, the two girls had settled on Isabelle's bed.

They were sleeping soundly, tangled with each other as tightly as was humanly possible. Isabelle was snoring slightly, and Maryse smiled at the sound she hadn't heard in years. Her daughter was growing up to be a wonderful person – she was going to be a doctor, like she'd always dreamed of. She was going to help heal the world.

Maryse watched as Isabelle sniffled, and moved a little, her hand wounding up over Clary's waist.

Isabelle looked, finally, like she was at peace.

Maryse shut the lights and closed the door on the two of them, smiling to herself.


End file.
